


tell the world i'm coming home

by kearlyn



Series: i'm coming home [2]
Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:51:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5389835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kearlyn/pseuds/kearlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NASA had anticipated a lot of scenarios that might prompt the Ares IV crew to make an unscheduled call from Mars. Mark Watney’s miraculous survival was not one of them. Aliens? Yes. Mark Watney? No.</p><p>(In which Venkat Kapoor, Annie Montrose, Mitch Henderson, and Teddy Sanders learn of Mark’s miraculous survival and prepare to tell the world.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Venkat Kapoor

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you to everyone who's been so encouraging about this series! I didn't expect this sequel to take so long, but it's finally ready to start posting.
> 
> As always, nothing you recognize belongs to me. I'm just playing in Andy Weir's sandbox, and he is a genius that should get all the love.

Any time that Venkat Kapoor’s phone rang at two o’clock in the morning, he answered it with a feeling of dread in his stomach. No-one called NASA’s Mars mission director in the wee hours of the morning with good news.

The last time he’d gotten an early morning phone call, it had been to report the evacuation of the Ares III crew and the death of Mark Watney.

So when he woke from a sound sleep to the shrill ringing of his phone, he glanced at the clock, noted the time, and groaned before climbing out of bed. He crossed the room in the dark and lifted his phone from its spot on the dresser.

“Kapoor,” he said, answering the shrill ringing.

“Brendan Hutch here,” said the voice on the other end.

Hutch, Venkat knew, was the back-up mission director for Mitch Henderson on the Ares IV mission and ran Mission Control during the night shift. The dread in his gut solidified.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“We have an unscheduled message for the Ares IV crew,” Hutch said. He sounded uncharacteristically hesitant. “It’s…”

“It’s what?” Venkat said, starting to get impatient. “What’s wrong?”

“Sir, I think you need to come in,” Hutch said instead of answering the question.

“Damn it, just tell me what’s going on,” Venkat said.

“I… sir… you really need to come in.”

Venkat sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hung up the phone then stood for a minute in the dark.

An early morning call and a mission director so spooked by whatever was going on that he was reduced to stuttering and couldn’t even tell Venkat what the problem was — Venkat had a terrible feeling that whatever was going on would be just as terrible as the Watney disaster four years earlier.

And that was absolutely the last thing NASA needed right now.

Their position was still shaky — you didn’t need Annie Montrose’s PR savvy to know that a dead astronaut _did not_ play well with the public — and it had been surprisingly difficult to get the Ares IV mission off the ground.

Only the fact that the MAV was already there and the pre-supply missions were already in the pipeline had saved the project.

The discovery that the Ares III mission site was completely destroyed had put a huge dent in the possibility of an Ares VI mission, and even the Ares V mission was looking a little shaky (despite already having Congress approval and funding).

The last thing NASA and the Ares program needed right now was another disaster of the Watney scale.

These thoughts consumed Venkat all the way from his home in the Houston suburbs to Mission Control in the Johnson Space Center.

One look at Hutch’s pale face and set expression, mirrored on the faces of every member of night shift staff, and Venkat knew that whatever was going on was worse than anything he was imagining.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” he said, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it into an empty chair.

Hutch grimaced.

“No. Yes. Maybe. Probably not,” he said.

Venkat raised an eyebrow and Hutch shrugged.

“It’s one of those good news, bad news situations,” he said.

Venkat sighed and pressed a hand over his eyes.

“Give me the bad news first,” he said.

Hutch made a complicated face.

“I can’t,” he said. “It’s really all the same news.”

Venkat stared at the man for a long moment. _It’s too damn early in the morning for this crap_ , he thought.

“Just… take me through it,” he said. “Start at the beginning.”

Hutch nodded.

“A little over an hour ago,” he started, “we received an unscheduled communication from the Ares IV crew.”

Venkat felt his stomach drop. He’d known, _he’d known_ , that it was something wrong with Ares IV.

Hutch caught his expression. “The crew’s okay,” he said, “and so is the Hab, the MAV, and the _Hermes_. Everything’s on schedule and they haven’t encountered any problems.”

Venkat blinked, feeling off-kilter. That wasn’t the update he was expecting.

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked.

Hutch grimaced again.

“I think it’s easier if you just watch Commander Ortega’s message,” he said.

He nodded to the CAPCOM officer poised at the station next to him and the weedy man (whose name Venkat could never, for the life of him, remember) opened up Ortega’s message.

The commander’s face filled the large screens at the front of the room. He began to speak and within seconds any other thought was driven from Venkat’s mind.

“Mission Control, this is Ares IV Actual and I have to report a pressing development to our mission.” The commander paused and a brief flicker of complicated emotion raced across his face. For an officer as stoic as Venkat knew Ortega was, it was startling to see.

He seemed to come to some sort of decision and braced himself before continuing. “This will come as quite a shock to the Ares III crew. And to NASA. And to the entire world. Mark Watney is still alive.”

Venkat felt like the world had dropped out from underneath. He stumbled backwards blindly, leaning heavily on the edge of a desk as his legs went weak. He was aware that Ortega was still speaking but he sounded far away. The commander’s words looped in his mind.

Mark Watney is still alive. Mark Watney is still alive. _Mark Watney is still alive._

He gave himself a mental shake and forced his focus back to the commander.

He didn’t have time now to give in to the mounting hysteria.

“—have all the details yet, but Watney’s given us the basics,” Ortega was saying when Venkat refocused on him. “His injury on Sol 6 was superficial, but destroyed the biomonitor, which is why the crew thought he was dead. He insists that his situation wasn’t their fault; he wanted to make sure you knew that.”

Ortega hesitated, then let out a breath. “I genuinely believe that he holds no animosity towards the Ares III crew. He seemed very concerned about their status and very relieved to know that they had made it home safely. Once they’re briefed, I think it would be beneficial to Watney to be able to contact them again. I think he would benefit a great deal from their support.

“Following their evacuation, Watney survived the first year in the Ares III Hab, but a major decompression forced him to abandon the Hab. He’s spent the last three years living in our MAV, which, as I noted, is where Stein discovered him earlier today.

“His physical and mental condition is as good as could be expected considering his situation. He managed to survive by growing potatoes from the supplies sent for the Ares III Thanksgiving meal and eating starvation rations. I’m sending along Dr. Newman’s preliminary medical report, but to summarize, we’re dealing with malnutrition and all its accompanying physical effects, and some lingering injuries that never healed properly.

“Watney’s psychological condition is harder to get a read on, but he’s lucid and seems fairly stable. We’re seeing obvious signs of the strain he’s been under, but it will take a while to get a point where we really know how he’s doing.

Ortega sighed. “I realize that this is going to have significant impacts on our mission, not the least of which is finding a way to get Watney home with us. On that front, Newman reports that Watney will require some not-insignificant recovery time before his body will be up to the strain of the MAV launch. She’s put in a request to Medical for some help with the assessment there.

“I have Stein and Fowler assessing the MAV for any wear and tear that might have come from three years of continuous use, and Griffith and Dale are cataloguing Watney’s scientific data.” Here Ortega let out a small, wry smile. “Apparently Watney completed all the Ares III experiments and has been collecting data nearly continuously since the evacuation, so we have four years of scientific data and samples to sort through.

Ortega’s face grew serious. “The crew is stable and we will maintain our current schedule until we receive further guidance from Mission Control. Ares IV Actual out.”

The message ended, freezing the last frame of Ortega’s serious face on the screen. For a moment, all Venkat could do was lean back and breath and just process.

He couldn’t even begin to consider the implications of what he’d just learned. That would come later.

Once he could get his mind of its endless loop of _Mark Watney is alive_.

He finally looked up to see Hutch watching him with an expression of profound sympathy on his face.

“I know how you feel,” Hutch said, breaking the tension.

Venkat huffed and shook his head, but a tiny smile tugged at his lips. At least he wasn’t going to be alone in dealing with this.

In fact, he thought, realization dawning, this was probably how the _entire world_ was going to feel when NASA broke the news to them.

It was going to be utter madness.

Venkat winced inside, already envisioning the incredible positive and negative backlash that would descend on them. He suddenly felt incredibly sorry for the NASA PR department. His own role was going to be difficult enough.

_Focus on the present_ , he thought, shaking off his dire future imaginings.

“Who else has seen this?” he asked Hutch.

“You and me, obviously,” Hutch said. He nodded down at the CAPCOM officer seated next to him. “Miller was the one who first received the message. The rest of the night shift has seen it.”

Venkat looked around the room, seeing four other personnel at various stations. All of them were busy trying to _look_ like they were busy, but Venkat could see them watching the little drama from the corners of their eyes.

He didn’t blame them.

“So that’s seven people,” he said. “Anyone else?”

Hutch shook his head.

“I locked down the information and you’re the first person I called,” he said. “I figured you would know who else needed to be informed immediately and how to do so.”

Meaning Hutch hadn’t wanted to be the one to get Mitch Henderson, Annie Montrose, or Teddy Sanders out of bed at three o’clock in the morning and pull their worlds out from under them.

Or, at least, that he wanted back-up when he did.

“Good work,” he said, nodding to Hutch. “Now we need to get Mitch, Annie, and Teddy in here and figure out how we’re going to handle this news. Start making phone calls.”

Hutch grimaced but obligingly turned to the desk phone at the CAPCOM station.

Venkat watched him punch in the first number then straightened to draw the attention of the rest of the room. All five personnel immediately focused on him and he had to hide a private smile. He knew they’d been paying more attention to him than to their work.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “as you know, we’ve received some incredible news from the Ares IV crew. I’m absolutely astounded and delighted by Mark’s survival, and I’m sure you share my sentiments. I’m also sure you realize how much of an impact this news will have on the rest of NASA and on the world. Disclosure of this information must be done properly, and through NASA itself.” He paused and stared down each person. “Until you are told otherwise, consider this information classified. You are not to speak about it to anyone outside of this room until you are given leave by myself, Director Sanders, or Ms. Montrose. Am I understood?”

He was gratified to see serious expression and firm nods from everyone in the room.

“Thank you,” he said.

He turned back to Hutch to find the man hanging up the phone.

“Everyone’s on their way,” Hutch said. “They’ll be here within the hour.”

Venkat nodded.

“We’ll have to wait for them before we make any decisions about this,” he said. “But in the meantime… where can a man get a good cup of coffee at this time of night?”

Hutch laughed and pointed Venkat towards tiny table in the back corner of the room where one of the night shift crew had brought in their personal, miniature expresso machine.

_Thank the gods_ , Venkat thought, and went to acquire some very necessary caffeine.


	2. Annie Montrose

“Well fuck,” Annie Montrose said into the stunned silence in the Mission Control room.

On the large monitors at the front of the room — empty except for Brendan Hutch, Venkat Kapoor, Mitch Henderson, Teddy Sanders, and Annie herself — Commander Ortega’s frozen image was a visual reminder of the bombshell he’d just dropped on NASA.

Annie glanced around the assembled faces. Mitch and Teddy looked just as shocked as she felt; Brendan and Venkat, who had already seen the message before calling the others in, just looked sympathetic.

“Are we sure this is real?” Teddy asked, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen on the group.

“You think the Ares IV crew is playing some kind of practical joke?” Annie asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Christ Teddy, they’re not the kind of people that would do that,” Mitch insisted, pushing to his feet. One of his hands curled and uncurled in a fist.

“I’m not suggesting that they are,” Teddy said. His voice was steady and he’d clearly recovered from his earlier emotional lapse — his face was smooth and calm and suggested nothing of what he might be feeling.

“I’m simply confirming,” he continued, “that we’re sure this is an accurate report and not the result of the crew suffering under some kind of delusion caused by bad food or bad water or, god forbid, some kind of chemical in the air supply.”

He looked around to meet the gaze of each person in the room.

“Before we get up in front of the world and tell them Mark Watney is alive, I want to be sure it’s actually true. God knows this is going to be enough of a mess; the last thing we want is to have to take this all back later.”

Mitch looked like he was on the verge of an explosion, but Venkat’s calm voice cut him off before he could get started.

“We’re absolutely sure that it’s true,” he said. “Ortega’s report came complete with an incident report from Stein and a medical report from Newman.”

He held up a hand when Teddy opened his mouth to speak.

“Both of _those_ reports were accompanied by images.” Venkat nodded to Brendan and the image of Ortega’s face was quickly replaced by an image of the Ares IV MAV.

The rocket was covered with a fine layer of reddish Martian dust and the edge of the Schiaparelli Crater loomed behind it in the distance. But that wasn’t what caught everyone attention. Sitting at the base of the MAV was an older model rover.

“As you can see from the images in Stein’s report, there is clearly an Ares III rover at the Ares IV MAV site,” Venkat said.

As he spoke, the image of the MAV was a replaced with a close-up of the rover’s side. Someone — Annie assumed it was Leah Stein — had wiped the dust off one side, revealing the faded Ares III logo.

“If you still have doubts,” Venkat continued, “this photo, attached to Dr. Newman’s preliminary medical report, should banish them.”

The image of the rover disappeared and what replaced it…

Annie made a small sound of shock and pressed one hand over her mouth.

Mark Watney filled the screen. He appeared to be asleep in the medical corner of the Hab. A blanket obscured most of his body from view, but what was visible made Annie sick to her stomach. An IV stuck out of one skeletally thin arm. Mark’s pale skin stretched over the bones in his face and his eyes looked sunken in their sockets. It looked like a picture from a news report about famine victims.

“Oh my god,” someone said and it took a moment for Annie to realize that it had been her.

Any other day, she would have been embarrassed by the break in her carefully crafted armor. But not today. This was _Mark_ , the man she’d commiserated with over beers, the man she’d spent tireless hours discussing social media strategies and guidelines with, the man she’d despaired over (but secretly been amused by) when he’d promptly thrown out all the guidelines and done whatever hilarious, inappropriate thing he wanted.

The man _she’d_ helped to put on Mars.

Annie couldn’t tear her eyes away from the image on the screen. The Mark Watney pictured there was nothing like the vibrant, exuberant man who’d left Earth five years ago. Nothing like the smiling, goofy man in the dozens of videos, vines, and images posted to social media during the _Hermes_ ’ trip to Mars.

Nothing like the man in the official NASA crew photo, trying to be serious but with a sparkle in his eyes and the hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth.

But still, unmistakably Mark Watney.

Alive.

“He looks like shit,” Annie heard herself say, then winced. It was absolutely true, but probably not the most tactful thing she could have said right at this moment.

“A little blunt, but accurate,” Teddy said somewhere to her left. “What did Newman’s report say? How is he?”

“The report mirrors what Commander Ortega noted in his message,” Venkat said. “Watney’s suffering from severe malnutrition with all the associated physical effects: muscle atrophy, potential organ damage, heart strain… Fortunately, it looks like access to the vitamin and protein supplies sent with the Ares III crew kept some of the more serious medical complications at bay. The malnutrition seems to be her most serious concern, but beyond that, Watney’s dealing with at least one serious injury acquired sometime during the last four years that never healed properly.”

He sighed and glanced up at the photo for a moment.

“And, of course, the psychological trauma of being abandoned on Mars and the effects of long-term isolation and stress,” he added.

“When will we be able to bring him home?” Annie asked.

“Not immediately,” Teddy said.

Annie startled and looked to Teddy, mouth agape.

“What the hell do you mean ‘not immediately’?” she demanded.

“Teddy’s right,” Mitch said. When she looked to him in surprise — for all their dedication to NASA’s mission, Teddy and Mitch _rarely_ agreed on how to actually accomplish that mandate — he met her gaze. His eyes and his expression were serious.

“As much as we want to bring him home immediately,” he said, “we can’t. You heard what Ortega said. If Dr. Newman is right in her assessment, and I’m confident that she is, Mark’s body _can’t_ take the strain of the MAV launch. He’ll need to put on weight and strengthen his body, especially his heart, before we could even think of risking a launch. And that’s not something we can fix overnight.”

“We’ll wait to see the assessment from Medical,” Teddy said, “but I’m inclined to keep them there the full 31 days of the scheduled mission. Watney needs the recovery time, and I want to get as much of the planned Ares IV mission goals complete as we can.”

Annie shook her head in mild disbelief at Teddy’s ability to cut out any emotional considerations, but didn’t argue. She might not have the scientific or medical background to give an opinion on that decision, but Teddy’s suggestion was an eminently practical one.

NASA had spent millions of dollars sending the Ares IV mission to Mars, and it didn’t make sense to waste that money.

Now she just had to find a way to sell that practicality to a highly emotional public who’d want their once-lost, miraculously found astronaut home as soon as possible.

Her gaze was drawn inexorably back to Mark’s image, projected in high definition, large scale on the Mission Control monitors.

It was going to be a damn hard message to sell to the public, she thought.

“Christ,” Mitch murmured after a long moment of silence. “What the hell do we tell everyone?”

“Legally, we have 24 hours to release this information to public,” Annie said, still staring at Mark’s image.

“We’ll have to come up with a statement,” Teddy said.

Annie huffed and looked at him. “And say what?” she asked. “Dear world, remember that astronaut we killed? Turns out, he’s not actually dead. We just left him behind. Alone. On a deserted planet. And didn’t figure it out for four years. Sorry, our bad. Sincerely, NASA?”

She shook her head.

“Realistically, there’s not much we can say that will make us look better in this mess,” she said. “What we do need is to have as much information as we can to give to the press.”

“Information?” Mitch asked. “Won’t this news be enough?”

Annie shook her head. “You know it won’t,” she said. She firmly pushed aside her emotions about Mark’s survival. There would be time to process that later, in privacy, when she could be alone to have a good cry. Right now, she couldn’t be Annie, Mark’s friend and drinking buddy, she had to be Ms. Montrose, head of NASA’s Public Relations department.

“The press, fucking vultures that they are, won’t be satisfied with just the news of Watney’s survival. You know them. They’ll want to know how he is and what our plan for getting him home is. And how we managed to _not notice_ that he was alive for four years. Because they’ll ask.”

“Do we have anything on that question?” Teddy asked, looking at Venkat and Mitch.

The two exchanged glances.

“Honestly, at the moment, I have no idea,” Mitch said. “I don’t recall anything coming to my attention that even suggested Watney had survived.”

Venkat nodded along with Mitch. “Off the top of my head, I don’t have an answer either,” he said.

Teddy sighed. “We’re going to need one by the end of the day,” he said.

Venkat and Mitch traded another glance.

“I’m not sure that’s going to be possible,” Venkat said.

“Damn right it’s not going to be possible,” Mitch said. “That’s four years of data to go through and dozens of people from every department to interview. It could take months. It could take years before we have a firm answer.”

“The press won’t wait years,” Annie said. “We’ll be fucking lucky if they wait minutes. I’m going to need something better than ‘we don’t know’ or the vultures will eat me alive. Eat all of us alive.”

“Relax Annie,” Teddy said. “We’ll have something.”

“You damn well better,” Annie said. “And you better have it fast. I’ll need something to give the press at the conference tonight.”

“Schedule it for tomorrow morning,” Mitch said.

Annie glanced at him, surprised.

“I know, I know,” Mitch said, “we have a short time frame to release this information and we can’t rely on our employees to keep quiet forever. I get that. But there are some people who deserve to hear this news in person, from us, and not from CNN.”

Annie paused, thought for a moment, and realized that Mitch was absolutely right. She nodded.

“I’ll schedule the conference for first thing tomorrow morning,” she said.

Mitch nodded and pushed away from the desk.

“Where are you going?” Venkat asked, sounding surprised.

Mitch paused and looked back.

“Chicago,” he said.

Annie winced. She didn’t envy him that conversation.

As the door closed behind Mitch’s retreating back, Teddy drew their attention back to the bigger issues that loomed in front of them.

“While Mitch takes care of that disclosure,” he said, “we have 24 hours to come up with a way to spin this for the press, a preliminary answer on how this mess happened, and an outline of a plan for getting Watney home with the Ares IV crew.”

He glanced around, meeting each person’s gaze.

“Ideas, anyone?”

He was met by silence.


	3. Mitch Henderson

Mitch Henderson was not looking forward to the conversation he was about to have.

Don’t get him wrong, he couldn’t be happier about the circumstances that were prompting it. Mark Watney’s miraculous survival was easily the best news he’d ever gotten during his tenure at NASA. Possibly the best news he’d gotten in his entire life.

Mitch had always taken his work very personally and while serving as the Ares III’s Mission Director, he’d seen the crew as more than just a professional responsibility. He’d been part of their lives since they were selected for the mission and with them every day from the day they’d left Earth until their return over a year later.

Mark Watney’s death had been devastating for him, and finding out that Watney had managed to survive on Mars, that he would be coming home was incredible.

That didn’t mean, standing here in front of an unassuming house in the Chicago suburbs, that he was looking forward to knocking on that door and telling Watney’s parents that their son, thought lost, had actually been abandoned.

Alone.

With no-one even realizing he was still alive.

For four years.

_Yeah_ , Mitch thought, _this is not going to pretty._

But it had to be done, and it had to be done today.

First thing tomorrow morning, Sanders and Annie would stand in front of a room full of reporters and tell the world that Watney was still alive. That NASA had never realized it. That Watney had barely survived on Mars and that it would still be a struggle to get him home.

It was going to be a hell of a bombshell.

And Mark Watney’s parents deserved to hear it from him, not from a talking head on CNN or Fox News.

A low chime and vibration from his pocket drew his attention away from his thoughts. He pulled out his phone and found a new text message waiting from Annie.

**_From Annie Montrose_ **

_Tell the Watneys we’re going to need a statement from them.  
[Sent 11:13 AM]_

**_From Mitch_ **

_You really think now’s the time to be asking about that?  
[Sent 11:14 AM]_

_I don’t think they’ll be in a very NASA positive mood.  
[Sent 11:14 AM]_

**_From Annie Montrose_ **

_K_ _I know.  
[Sent 11:14 AM]_

_Ask anyway.  
[Sent 11:15 AM]_

_They’re going to have to give a statement.  
[Sent 11:15 AM]_

_Better that we’re involved.  
[Sent 11:16 AM]_

Mitch grimaced and sighed. He sent a quick acknowledgement to Annie before pocketing his phone and pressing a hand over his eyes.

_As if this conversation wasn’t already going to be bad enough_ , he thought.

Drawing in a deep breath and straightening his spine, Mitch strode up the Watney’s driveway and knocked on their front door. A furious barking began somewhere inside the house and Mitch remembered suddenly that Watney’s parents had taken in their son’s dog while he was away on Mars. Mitch remembered seeing the dog at Mark Watney’s funeral, but couldn’t remember its name.

It seemed suddenly important now.

Every little detail, every bit of trivia about Mark Watney’s life that Mitch had learned as the Ares III mission director was suddenly relevant again, no longer relegated to the locked-away corner of Mitch’s mind where he’d put those details when Watney was killed.

Footsteps from inside the house drew Mitch back to the present and he refocused his attention just as David Watney pulled the door open.

“Can I help you?” David said, a polite smile on his face.

That smile disappeared as soon as he got a good look at the man standing on his doorstep.

“Mr. Watney—“ Mitch started.

“What the hell do you want?” David’s face closed down, his mouth drawing tight and his eyes narrowing.

Mitch winced but tried to keep his face calm. The Watneys had — publically — never been anything but supportive of NASA, the Ares missions, and their son’s crew. Privately, he knew they had a lot of simmering resentment towards the NASA officials for how they’d been treated in the aftermath of their son’s death.

_And rightly so_ , Mitch thought.

In the wake of the disaster, NASA had scrambled to maintain their funding and their public support and had pushed the Watneys hard to remain openly supportive. The Watneys had never resented NASA or the surviving Ares III crew for Mark’s death, but they’d made it abundantly clear that they _did_ resent being asked to use his death for publicity and to generate sympathy with the public and Congress.

So Mitch wasn’t surprised by their poor reception.

“Please, Mr. Watney,” he said, “I need to speak with you and your wife.”

David’s expression darkened.

“What now?” he said. “What more could you people possibly want? Another press conference? Maybe a book this time? What?”

“Sir—“

“Hasn’t our family given you enough?”

“David, who’s at the door?” a woman’s voice called from inside the house.

“NASA,” David said, his voice short.

Moments later, a slim woman appeared around the corner and started down the hallway. She approached to the door and her husband stepped back, letting her take the lead. This was the way the couple had handled everything in the wake of their son’s death, and NASA officials, journalists, and politicians alike had learned to fear Caroline Watney’s temper and formidable presence.

“Mr. Henderson,” she said, eying Mitch with a fierce expression.

“Ma’am,” he said. He inclined his head and resisted the urge to gulp nervously.

“And what, pray tell, is NASA doing on our doorstep?” she asked. Her voice was calm, but Mitch could hear the steel underneath her words.

“Please ma’am, sir,” he said, inclining his head at both Watneys, “I have some… news… that I need to discuss with you both, and I think it would be better if we could sit down to talk about it. May I come in?”

David began to puff up, but Caroline put a quelling hand on his arm. She studied Mitch with a narrowed expression, and he tried to look as open as possible.

Finally, Caroline nodded.

“You can have five minutes,” she said, “but I reserve the right to throw you out on your backside if we don’t like what you have to say.”

Mitch winced, but nodded.

“Thank you ma’am,” he said.

Caroline nodded shortly and opened the door. As Mitch stepped through the door and his eyes adjusted to the light, he finally got a good look at both Watneys and had to hide his surprise. They looked like they’d aged significantly since he’d last seen them in person at a press conference following Ares III’s arrival back on Earth.

They were pushing 70, he knew, but they’d always seemed so jovial and full-of-life, and it had been easy to see where their son’s irrepressible energy had come from.

But now both Watneys looked worn, like they carried a heavy weight on their shoulders and like the joy had been drained from their lives.

Mitch knew that it was Mark’s loss that had caused this change and felt another pang of guilt. This was just another failure on NASA’s part, another consequence of their failure.

He followed the Watneys into the living and gingerly took a seat in an armchair. The Watneys sat together on the sofa across from him, and Mitch felt almost like he was sitting in an interrogation. The arrival of Mark Watney’s tan mutt, who planted himself next to Mr. Watney and stared at Mitch like he was contemplating the merits of biting him, didn’t help matters.

“Now, Mr. Henderson,” Caroline said, “tell us what you came to say and get out.”

Mitch sighed and folded his hands together, then looked up to meet the Watneys’ gaze.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” he started. “Your son is still alive. On Mars.”

There was a stunned silence.

“If this is a joke, it’s in very poor taste,” Caroline said, her voice shaking.

Mitch shook his head.

“It’s not a joke ma’am. I promise. Mark is still alive.”

Caroline made a choked sound and pressed a hand to her mouth. Her other hand reached out to clasp her husband’s.

“How?” David asked.

Mitch sighed and leaned forward, drawing out a tablet containing Ortega’s message. The Watneys watched in silence, gripping tightly to each other’s hands, as Ortega’s steady voice relayed the news of Mark’s survival and condition.

When the video was over, David and Caroline met Mitch’s gaze through eyes filled with tears.

“How?” David asked again. “How did this happen?”

“And how are you getting him home?” Caroline demanded.

Mitch answered the Watneys’ questions as thoroughly as he could, but the conversation was every bit as painful as he had expected.

At one point, Caroline Watney had been so incensed by the knowledge that NASA hadn’t realized for four years that her son was alive that she jumped to her feet to shout at Mitch. For a long moment, he was afraid she’d leap right over the coffee table to throttle him.

He wouldn’t blame her.

The longer he thought about this issue, the more it weighed on him. The more he realized just how profound NASA’s failure was.

Fortunately for him, David gently calmed his wife down, urging her to sit and gently taking one of her hands.

“So what, exactly, is NASA doing to bring my son back and to find out how this happened?” Caroline asked when her temper wound down.

“Right now, we’re focused on getting Mark home safely,” Mitch said. “I know you want answers about how this happened, but we don’t have them yet.” Seeing the storm growing again behind Caroline eyes, he held up his hands. “I know,” he said. “Believe me, I want answers too. Getting Mark home was my responsibility, and I failed.”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a minute.

That thought, his failure, had been weighing on him since he’d seen Ortega’s message, but saying it out loud was harder than he’d imagined it would be.

“I failed,” he repeated, opening his eyes and meeting Caroline’s gaze. “And I promise you, we’ll find out how this happened. But right now, the important thing is to make sure Mark is healthy and to get him home safely.”

With visible reluctance, Caroline nodded and settled back into her seat.

The rest of the conversation wasn’t much easier. Tensions were running high and all of the Watneys’ questions were uncomfortable and pointed, but Mitch did his best to give them everything he could.

It was the very least that they deserved.

Finally, the conversation wound to a close and Mitch, emotionally drained and exhausted, bid the Watneys a quiet farewell. They both escorted him back to the front door and waved him out without a word. He didn’t mind. Their drawn faces revealed just how difficult the conversation had been and both Watneys looked like it was only through sheer force of will that they were keeping themselves from an emotional breakdown.

He hoped they would take the chance, once he left, to lean on each other in private and have that breakdown.

It would probably be the last sliver of peace they had.

Once Mark’s survival hit the news circuit, none of them were going to get a break for a very long time.

As he stepped back out onto the porch, he suddenly remembered, Annie’s text message. He debated, for a moment, not saying anything. In their current state, he didn’t think either of the Watneys would be too receptive. Or anywhere near the right frame of mind for PR.

He’d thought it was a bad idea when Annie had first texted him.

It was an even worse idea now.

But Annie would flay him alive if he didn’t deliver the message and, regardless of what Annie wanted, it was something that had to be done. NASA and the Watneys had to be on the same page, or the journalists would show no mercy. (Not that Mitch expected any mercy from them on a regular day, and news this explosive would encourage even less consideration.)

He stopped in the doorway and turned back to face the David and Caroline.

“One more thing,” he said tentatively. “Ms. Montrose has asked me to pass on a request that you meet with her about giving a statement about Mark once the news has broken.”

Moments later, sitting dazed on the front porch with blood pouring from his nose and staring up at Caroline Watney’s clenched fists and furious face, Mitch wished he’d listened to his instincts and refused Annie’s request or told her to make it herself.

He could have faced her wrath.

Annie’s assault, at least, would have only been verbal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's taken a long time to get this chapter out... but here it finally is! This one fought me a lot, but your comments and enthusiasm kept me going. Thank you to everyone who read, kudosed, and reviewed. If I haven't responded to your comments, please know that I did read them and they meant the world to me, and responses are coming.
> 
> Happy (belated) New Year!


	4. Teddy Sanders

It was the end of a very long day and Teddy Sanders wanted nothing more than to fall into bed. Kapoor’s early morning wake-up call had been just the beginning. The news of Mark Watney’s survival had set off a frantic buzz within NASA, albeit a contained one.

They wanted to keep the news as quiet as possible to prevent anything from leaking before tomorrow’s press release. That meant that those who already knew had to be threatened into silence and closely monitored and that none of them could really begin any kind of in-depth investigation into how this disaster had happened.

Teddy knew that Venkat had spent the day quietly looking into what information he could uncover without revealing Watney’s survival to even more people, but Teddy himself had had no time to follow any of the details.

He’d spent the day updating the President, then key members of Congress.

The news of Watney’s survival was going to thrill the world, but it was the shit-storm of questions and consequences for NASA that Teddy was really worried about right now. And now, after a long day of phone calls, Teddy could at least say that he wasn’t the only one worried about the coming disaster.

He allowed himself a moment to pull down the professional mask he had cultivated and slump in his chair.

Mark Watney was alive.

Teddy let that thought circle his mind, a small smile stretching his mouth. Part of his mind was still ticking over the problems of telling the world and dealing with the fallout, but for now Teddy shoved those thoughts into a dark corner and just let himself enjoy this revelation.

Mark’s death had been a devastating to blow to everyone at NASA, and though Teddy had never let himself show it, he’d been no less affected than any of his colleagues. In a way, every NASA employee was his responsibility, and losing one on his watch had been hard.

Standing in front of a crowd of Mark’s friends and family — in front of the world of spectators both grieving and guiltily fascinated — to give a eulogy for Mark had been even harder.

Getting Mark back was a miracle, no matter what the consequences.

_Thank God_ , he thought, _Mark Watney is alive._

Outside the large windows of his office, the sun was already sliding down towards the horizon. On a normal day, Teddy would be thinking about sending a few more emails, wrapping up the day’s work, and going home to a quiet dinner and a good book.

Unfortunately, the day’s work was far from over.

A firm knock on his office door interrupted Teddy’s meandering thoughts. He straightened in his chair, smoothing the expression from his face, and turned. Annie hovered in the doorway, eyebrows raised and a questioning tilt to her head.

“Annie,” he acknowledged, waving her in.

She headed straight for the espresso maker in the corner of Teddy’s office and set a triple shot brewing.

Teddy hid a wince. A triple shot this late in the day was a good indication of Annie’s current mood — and of how stressful her day had been.

Annie was just settling into one of Teddy’s armchairs when Venkat slipped through the door. He didn’t look nearly as frazzled as Annie, but there was a definite weight to his shoulders, and his normally neat appearance was more rumpled than Teddy had seen in, well… in four years.

Since the disastrous Ares III evacuation.

_Mark Watney, causing trouble all the way from Mars_ , Teddy thought, and for the first time in years, the lingering specter of Mark Watney and Mars didn’t cause a stab of guilty pain.

Venkat mimicked Annie’s actions, making himself an espresso before slumping into another armchair. The three of them sat in silence for a few moments, Annie and Venkat sipping their drinks while Teddy enjoyed a moment to let his mind go blank.

Finally, Venkat looked up and met Teddy’s eyes.

“So,” he said, “how was your day?”

Teddy matched his sardonic smile with one of his own, while Annie snorted from her seat.

“Anyone know when Mitch is due back?” she asked.

“He called an hour ago from the airport,” Teddy said. “He should be here any—“

Teddy broke off, staring in astonishment as Mitch Henderson shuffled into the room. The man’s face looked terrible. His nose had clearly been broken; dark bruising was spreading across the ridge and circling both eyes and trickle of blood rimmed one nostril.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, stunned.

Annie and Venkat turned in their seats and both looked shock at Mitch’s appearance.

Mitch winced and dabbed at the blood with a Kleenex crumpled in one hand.

“Caroline Watney,” he said.

“Caroline Watney broke your nose?” Venkat asked, sounding amazed.

Mitch nodded gently then sent a glare in Annie’s direction.

“She punched me,” he said, “when I asked her to work with us on a statement about Mark’s survival.”

Annie shrugged. “It had to be done,” she said. She glanced at Mitch’s face and winced. “I’ll admit though,” she said, “that I didn’t expect her to punch you.”

Mitch sighed and slumped into a chair.

“It’s fine,” he said. “If that’s what she needs to get through this… well, I don’t think we’re in much of a position to argue.”

Teddy hid a wince as Mitch’s comments highlighted the looming issue in the room.

“Have we made any progress on explaining this disaster?” he asked.

“Well, we have the basics of a statement to release, and most of the media have confirmed that they’ll be at the conference,” Annie said. “What I still need is answers to the inevitable questions about how the fuck we missed knowing that Mark was alive for four years.”

“Venkat?” Teddy asked.

Venkat sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

“I have some answers,” he said. “Keep in mind, though, that I’ve been trying to keep this news quiet for now, so I haven’t been able to get all the information yet…”

“Yes, yes,” Teddy said, motioning for him to continue.

“Well,” Venkat said, “there are a few things we do know. We know why Mark wasn’t able to contact us from the Hab after the evacuation.”

“I was wondering about that,” Annie said. “Didn’t the mission have three redundant communication systems? How could they all have failed?”

“They didn’t,” Venkat said. “The problem was that all the communication systems required either the MAV, which was gone, or the Hab’s own communication dish, which was destroyed. We built in all these redundancies, but we just never conceived of anyone being on Mars without the MAV.”

“What about the Ares IV MAV? Do we know why didn’t he contact us when he got there?” Mitch asked. “Is there a problem with the MAV’s communication systems?”

Venkat winced. “No,” he said, “the problem was on our end.”

Teddy raised his eyebrows. “Explain,” he said.

Venkat sighed. “Obviously, we don’t know the whole story from Mark’s end,” he said. “We’ll have to wait for a more detailed debrief to get that. What we do have is an incident log from two and a half years ago — about the same time Mark would have reached the Ares IV site — of some unexpected connection requests from the MAV.”

“Oh God,” Mitch said, dawning horror on his face.

Venkat shared a pained look with him before continuing.

“At the time, the connection was deemed a computer glitch — something in the MAV’s communication systems engaging when they weren’t supposed to. JPL wrote a patch for the MAV that shut down the communications system completely. Stein and Fowler were supposed to re-initialize it and run a full diagnostic.”

There was a moment of heavy silence.

“So…” Annie said slowly, “what you’re saying is that Mark tried to call us and we… what? Hung up the phone?”

“More like we cut the phone line, cancelled the calling plan, and deactivated the phone’s ability to do _anything_ ,” Mitch said.

“Well… shit,” Annie said. “So we fucked up with the MAV. That’s on us. The media’s going to have a fucking field day with that. But if that’s all, I might be able to spin it. Somehow.”

Venkat’s wince was clearly visible, no matter how he seemed to be trying to hide it.

Teddy felt a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

“That’s not all, is it?” he asked.

Venkat shook his head.

“The satellites,” he said, and Teddy’s guilty feeling multiplied exponentially.

He knew where this was going.

“What about the satellites?” Mitch asked, looking between them.

“We should have been able to see some indication of Mark’s survival on the satellites taking pictures of Acadalia Planetia,” Venkat said.

“Why the hell didn’t we?” Mitch asked.

“Because I told Venkat not to take any pictures of the Ares III site,” Teddy said.

“What?” Annie said, voice shocked.

“Why the hell not?” Mitch said. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Teddy. “Did you know?” he asked.

Teddy flinched minutely backward.

“Did I… did I _know_?” he asked, shocked. “You really think I knew Mark was alive and… what? Intentionally ignored it?”

He knew the shock, the almost betrayed emotion, was evident in his voice and he couldn’t care. He knew he took a particularly practical and economic approach to his job, but the idea that anyone would genuinely believe that he would knowingly abandon one of his astronauts…

Mitch sighed and shook his head.

“No,” he said. “No, I don’t.” He paused and met Teddy’s gaze. “It’s just been one of those days.”

He didn’t say _sorry_ — wouldn’t ever say it — but his expression was apologetic.

“Good,” Teddy said, “because I _didn’t_ know. I made that decision to avoid having a picture of a dead astronaut on the front page of _The Washington Post_.”

“Yeah, that would have been _bad_ ,” Annie said. “On the other hand, that explanation is not going to fly with the media. Not with Mark being… you know… still alive. We’re going to get a lot of heat for not confirming his death.”

“Legal said the same thing,” Teddy said heavily.

“Christ, is Legal involved already?” Mitch said.

“They were my first call,” Teddy said.

“How bad is it?” Venkat asked.

“Well,” Teddy said, “I’m sure no-one is surprised that they’re reopening the Ares III Sol 6 investigation.”

“Obviously,” Mitch said with a huff.

“They’re also beginning a new investigation into NASA’s responsibility for failing to realize that Mark was alive before today.” Teddy sighed and let his weariness show on his face for a moment. “They’re already talking about lawsuits and settlements.”

“Who’s heading the investigation?” Venkat asked.

“Alicia Koats.”

They all winced. Alicia Koats was the most outspoken, intense lawyer in NASA’s Legal department and a woman who had never hesitated to hold NASA fully accountable for their faults.

She would have a great deal of material to find them at fault for here, Teddy thought.

“Well that’s going to be a fun experience,” Mitch muttered. “What with leaving Mark behind _alive_ and not confirming his death and somehow not noticing him on the satellites for _four years_.” He turned to Venkat. “How _did_ we miss him? I understand why we didn’t see him at Acadalia Planetia. We weren’t looking. And by the time we did, I assume he had already left?”

Venkat nodded.

“Right,” Mitch said. “But then he drove 3200 kilometers across Mars and spent three years living in the Ares IV MAV. We’ve had satellites pointed at Mars and Schiaparelli almost constantly for that entire time. _How did we miss him?_ ”

That was a question Teddy wanted answered too.

Venkat shook his head. “ _That_ we don’t know,” he said.

Teddy raised his eyebrows and Mitch snorted in disbelief.

“What the hell do you mean, we don’t know?” he demanded.

“We don’t know,” Venkat repeated. “To find out, we’ll need to comb back through three years of satellite images and SATCON records. And we’ll need to take a much closer look at the images the satellites are sending us of Schiaperelli.”

Mitch opened his mouth, but Venkat spoke over top of him.

“And I can’t do that,” he said, “without the help of the analysts, orbital specialists, and basically all of SATCON. Who don’t know that Mark is alive yet. I had thought,” he added, meeting Mitch’s gaze and then Teddy’s, “that we were trying to keep this quiet until we had a chance to officially release the news.”

Teddy inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“We are,” he said. “Once everyone’s been informed, how long do you think an investigation will take you?”

Venkat shook his head. “I wish I could tell you,” he said. “I don’t even have an estimate yet.”

Teddy sighed but nodded. He’d been hoping that they would have a lot more — and better — explanations to give the press than.

“Alright,” he said. “Keep me informed.”

Venkat nodded.

“Annie?” Teddy asked, turning to the Public Relations Manager. “Any thoughts on spinning this for the press?”

“Spinning what?” Annie asked. “That we don’t really know all that much, and what we do know is that we fucked up?” She sighed and massaged her temples. “I think we’re going to have to go with what amounts to ‘no comment’. Especially with Legal opening an investigation. We tell the press we’re still investigating and that we can’t release any information until the investigation is complete. They won’t like it, but we can make them accept it.”

Teddy sighed.

Making the press accept it would, unfortunately, be his job.

“Send me what you have so far for a statement,” Teddy said.

“I’ll need to make some edits, but you’ll have it within the hour,” Annie said.

Teddy nodded, but Annie had already turned to her phone, furiously tapping away at the screen.

There were a few moments of silence in the room as the group of NASA executives contemplated the massive mess they were wading through. Mitch sighed and slumped back into his chair.

“It’s been a long day,” he said, one hand pressed gingerly over his eyes.

“It’s not over yet,” Venkat said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Teddy saw Annie’s confused expression as she paused in her typing.

Venkat must have seen it too. “Someone still has to tell the Ares III crew,” he said.

Annie and Teddy both winced, but only Annie allowed the expression to show on her face.

“I’ll tell them,” Mitch said.

When Teddy looked over, Mitch met his gaze.

“I think one punch to the face is enough for today,” Teddy said.

Mitch shook his head, then winced as the sharp motion obviously aggravated his broken nose.

“They’re my crew,” he said. “I have to be the one that tells them.”

Teddy traded glances with Venkat. Of the three of them, Mitch was on the lowest level in the NASA hierarchy, so either Venkat or Teddy could over-rule him. And news this big should probably come from someone at Venkat or Teddy’s level.

But Venkat nodded, easily ceding the responsibility to Mitch. Venkat, Teddy knew, wasn’t doing it to shirk his duty, but merely in recognition of Mitch’s closer bond with the crew. Venkat had always been more in tune with these emotional interactions than Teddy, but he was equally a pragmatist. Teddy had always appreciated that pragmatism in the face of Mitch’s unrelenting idealism — idealism that often clash with Teddy’s cautious approach to NASA’s operations.

Today, though, Teddy intended to take full advantage of Mitch’s ability to be open and emotionally connected to the crew.

In this situation, he thought that might go over better with the crew.

And though he’d never admit it to anyone, Teddy wanted to avoid having to confront NASA’s failures (his failures) for another day. And the crew would never let that happen.

“Alright,” he said, nodding to Mitch. “We’ve asked them all to come in for an urgent meeting this evening. They should be here in about an hour and a half. Conference room seven.” He paused and took in Mitch’s tired appearance and the deepening bruising around his nose. “Take a little time to clean up,” he added.

Mitch grimaced and nodded.

“Annie,” Teddy continued, “I’d like you to sit in with Mitch. The crew’s going to have to speak with the media. Maybe not right away, but it’s going to have to happen. I want them prepared.”

Annie nodded.

“I’ll put some preliminary notes together,” she said, “but we’ll want to hold off putting the crew in front of the media for a while. At least until we have a better handle on this situation.”

Teddy nodded.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Venkat sigh and pushed to his feet.

“If there’s nothing else,” he said, “I’m going to get some sleep before tomorrow’s circus.”

Teddy nodded in dismissal, and Venkat and Annie both headed for the door. Annie was buried in her phone, furiously typing, and Teddy guessed she was revising the press releases and speeches for tomorrow morning.

Mitch lingered for a moment then sighed and followed the others out the door.

As the door closed behind Mitch, Teddy allowed himself to slump in his chair and press his hands over his eyes and just breath. He’d never been the kind of person who looked back and dwelled on past mistakes. In the wake of the Ares III disaster, he’d concentrated on moving forwards.

On moving NASA forwards.

But now, for the first time in his life, he desperately wanted the opportunity to go back and make different decisions.

He didn’t want to have to concentrate on going forwards.

Ironic, considering that going forwards was now more important than ever.

For Mark’s future and NASA’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: NASA tells the Ares III crew.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me through all the delays! I haven't given up on this, and your comments keep me writing :)

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on tumblr at thekearlyn.tumblr.com!


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